Conclave: rules, profiles, duration and curiositiesTopics discussed at the last general congregationSome friends of mine insisted on commenting on the Conclave in political terms. "Tradition vs. progress", "candidacies" and "contenders", black shoes ("poverty") or red shoes ("wealth", when in fact they mean "martyrdom"). "What a way of not understanding anything," I told them. I wanted to explain to them how a Conclave of the Catholic Church, but I realized that this is something to "live". That is why I have chosen to dedicate this brief imagination to them:
"¡Extra omnesexclaimed Monsignor Ravelli and the electors began to settle into their seats. Although it was sunny, inside the Sistine Chapel it was a bit cooler. That's why the cardinal regretted it: "At the wrong time I brought leather-soled shoes," he said to himself as he wiggled his toes to keep them from getting numb. He began meditating on the responsibility incumbent upon them, but he judged that Michelangelo's fresco of the Last Judgment was more persuasive than a thousand words. So he took advantage of the moment to pray for his colleagues: there were white, yellow, black, mulatto faces; some were more attentive, others were fighting sleep. At that point he smiled, for he felt in his heart that he loved his brothers.
Fortunately, the first day only contemplated one vote, which ended, as is logical, with fumata nera (very black thanks to the fumigants added through a second stove). They burned all the ballots and also the other sheets that some had used for reflection. More or less the best known names came out, although each one of them was far from reaching the two thirds required by the Holy Spirit.
The next day was more tiring. Two ballots in the morning and two more in the afternoon. The votes for the diplomat, the Central European and the famous missionary increased. Some new names were also mentioned and, strangely enough, at the end of the day the Cardinal heard his own. And it had not been he who had put that name on the ballot, of that he was sure. By the way, would there be a way to buy shoes somewhere? Being so incommunicado it seemed difficult; perhaps he could borrow a pair from someone?
On the morning of the third day there were clouds. The cardinals were quieter, they prayed at all hours, no one slept while the votes were being counted. At midday, there was a certain tension in the dining room of the Casa Santa Marta and the cardinal felt that the others were watching him. That made him uncomfortable, especially when he poured himself the second time the spaghetti all'amatriciana.
On the first ballot of the afternoon, the cardinal's name came up quite a few times. While the three cardinal tellers on duty counted in the second ballot, he remembered other elections he had lived through: when he was chosen at the end for the school soccer games, the day he was selected to be an assistant in a medical course, or the scholarship he won to do his doctorate in theology in Rome. What a long career he had had. He spent years in the parish wondering why he had studied so much; then he was made bishop and regretted not having studied more. When he was created a cardinal he began to dream of retirement. How he longed to retire to a country house to quietly pray the Breviary, read poetry, listen to classical music. However, his colleagues were looking at him in a way that seemed excessive.
It was not possible. The senior cardinal bishop, accompanied by the master of ceremonies and the secretary of the college of cardinals, was approaching. Their footsteps echoed in the Chapel as if they were the trumpets of the Last Judgment. "Do you accept your canonical election as Supreme Pontiff?". The Cardinal's ears buzzed, the lodge was collapsing, his cold feet shivered. He coughed once. He tried to say no, but an inner strength helped him to answer with more courage: "Trusting in God's mercy, I accept to put myself in Peter's shoes." Applause, hugs and tears of emotion burst forth. "Holy Father," everyone greeted him, starting with the diplomat, the Central European and the famous missionary.
While the others were preparing the fumata biancaThe Pope made his way to the sacristy or "Room of Tears". He noticed the hanger with three white cassocks (sizes "S", "M" and "L"), looked at the pectoral cross resting on the marble table, did not linger over the soutane or the miter... The first thing he did was to look for his number among the pairs of red shoes piled up in the corner, for he had noticed that all of them had a comforting rubber sole underneath.
Lawyer from the Pontifical Catholic University of Chile, Licentiate in Theology from the Pontifical University of the Holy Cross (Rome) and Doctorate in Theology from the University of Navarra (Spain).
